The Universe From my Love
by Amy494walker
Summary: Spencer's been here before, he knows better than to hope. Now if only that stopped him from doing so anyway.


**Title:** The Universe From my Love  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> HotchxReid  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Pre-slash H/R; someone has a secret admirer for Valentine's Day. Bonus points if it's Hotch being the secret admirer.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Spencer's been here before, he knows better than to hope. Now if only that stopped him from doing so anyway.  
><strong>AN:** This is what happens when you write a fic while listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack on repeat; It turns out as depressing as it is fluffy.

* * *

><p>Spencer sighed deeply as he inhaled the delicious aroma of his greatest vice; sweet, sweet coffee. He let out a little hum of contentment as he sat at his desk and found a healthy pile of folders in his inbox. Morgan and Prentiss thought they were sneaky slipping him their files, but then, they also thought he minded. He didn't. He loved this, getting to work early, cup of coffee and a large pile of soothing paperwork. It was as close to perfect as this job ever got.<p>

"Good morning Reid."

Spencer turned to smile at Hotch, the only person other than him to come into work this early. "Morning Hotch. Jack get off to school okay today?" He asked leaning back in his chair. Hotch would often take a few seconds to hang by Spencer's desk and chat about his morning. Spencer had been surprised at first, Hotch wasn't one for sharing usually, but he'd come to appreciate it. Look forward to it even.

Leaning a hip against the edge of the desk, Hotch folded his arms with an easy smile on his face, "Yeah, after convincing me he desperately needed to wear his Spiderman costume underneath his regular clothes."

Spencer raised his eyebrows and laughed, "What? Why?"

Hotch shook his head, holding up a hand, "I don't know. I was in a rush so I agreed but I'm expecting a letter from the principal along the lines of not allowing my son to think he can stop schoolyard criminals between classes."

They laughed at that, and at the image of little Jack running around the playground, yanking open his shirt revealing a superhero costume to a bully, "Good luck with that." Spencer said jokingly.

"Yeah." Hotch answered sarcastically, smiling.

When Hotch eventually headed up to his office and people gradually began piling in, Spencer found he had to struggle to keep the smile from his face.

* * *

><p>Sitting at his desk after lunch, Spencer had a frown on his face. It was partly from the niggling stomach ache he was feeling after daring to buy a vendor hotdog, but mostly it was down to the red box with a card on top of it currently residing on his desk. The card had <em>'Spencer'<em> written on it in flawless calligraphy.

"Ooh!" Came a high pitched squeak from behind him, causing Spencer to jump and turn to face a grinning Garcia, "My baby boy got a valentine!"

"What?" He asked dumbly. Valentines day was February 14th and today was ... February 14th._ 'Oh, not this again. Please.'_

Frowning and trying to hide his humiliation and anger, Spencer pushed the box roughly aside and said sharply, "Great."

Garcia planted herself into his periphery vision to asked, "You're not gonna open it?" She sounded as though she couldn't contemplate why he wouldn't. Spencer wished he could have had a life which allowed for such optimism.

Spencer looked her in the eyes and said seriously, "No." And held her gaze for a few seconds so she would know he was serious.

Garcia was frowning now and looked rather upset, "But you'll never know who it's from. Aren't you curious what it is?"

Turning to face his work again, Spencer sighed deeply, "No. I'm not." He knew he was beginning to sound harsh but, he just needed Garcia to get the message and leave him alone.

"I am." She said, still confused.

"Then you open it. Here have it." He snapped, shoving the box and card rudely into her arms before storming out, desperate to get away from the situation.

When he arrived in the bathroom, he was glad to see it empty. He paced, running his hands through his long hair. He'd have to apologize to Garcia later, he knew it wasn't her fault.

He remembered all those times he'd foolishly let himself get his hopes up only to be cruelly disillusioned. This place was supposed to be different. Now all his friends where out there, opening the box and seeing what a joke he was. He wondered what it would be this time. Something as benign as gravel or one of the more malicious surprises. Rotten fruit? Animal feces? Spencer shuddered thinking of the time he'd been gifted with a dead, rotting rat.

His stomach flipped when the bathroom door opened. He knew it would be Morgan, even Garcia would have some hesitations about entering the men's room.

"You okay kid?" His friend asked, sounding concerned.

"Fine." Spencer knew his sharp tone betrayed how much less than fine he was, but he coulnd't care right now.

"Sure. Just not a fan of valentines day I see." Morgan joked.

Spencer closed his eyes and shook his head, "That's not funny." He whispered.

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Morgan gently turned Spencer to face him. The concern he saw there almost made him believe things would be fine. There was always something that made him believe, he was a naive fool, every time.

"I can see that." Morgan said softly.

Ignoring that, Spencer grit his teeth and asked, "So. What was it?" And braced himself for the humiliation.

"A personalised coffee mug." Morgan answered with a small smile in his voice. Spencer's stomach dropped. These were the worst kind, the genuine gift, building his hope and tricking him into believing before the painful reveal. He couldn't do this again.

"I've got work to do." Spencer murmured, heading for the door.

"Reid." Morgan called. Spencer stopped but didn't turn, "I can see something's bothering you and I can tell you don't want to talk about it. But just know that I'm here if you do, okay?"

He sounded so genuine, Spencer could almost believe he meant it. Nodding in response, Reid left quickly.

When he got to his desk, he saw a car propped up next to an expensive looking, cream, bone china mug with _'Dr Spencer Reid'_ printed on it above a quote, _'Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.'_ It was a Chaucer quote. His favorite author. The surge of sadness that welled up in chest that the person doing this to him was someone who knew him well enough to know of his love for Chaucer was almost overwhelming. With a flash of bitterness, he opened his top desk drawer and used his arm to swipe both the items in before slamming it shut and turning back to his work, trying his hardest to focus.

* * *

><p>The day was almost over, finally, and all Spencer wanted was to go home. He wanted to bring his comforter into the living room, order an obscene amount of fast food and watch Firefly until he fell asleep. It was a sound plan and had worked in the past. He was actually looking forward to it.<p>

When he returned to his desk after going to the bathroom, he felt a rush of heat and pain flood him. There, on his desk, was another card. On it's own this time but with the same calligraphy. He sat heavily in his chair and looked at it with hatred. Why would someone do this to him? He thought he'd made friends here, why did someone want to see him suffer? Swallowing back the bile at the back of his throat, he picked it up and opened it, he hadn't read the first one.

_'You make me smile every day, despite the darkness, by being only yourself. I wish only in this world to be able to brighten your life a fraction of the way you do mine.'_

Again, it was there. That sparkle of hope that there could be one person out there who wanted to make him happy, to make him feel something other than crushing loneliness, but he refused to pay it mind. This had happened too many times for him to trust it. With sudden anger, Spencer tore the card in half and thew it in the trash.

He decided he wasn't going to give this person the chance to play out their endgame, so grabbing his coat and bag, he headed up to Hotch's office.

"Hotch. I'm not feeling well, I'm gonna go home early. I'll make it up tomorrow." He said blankly, and left before giving the other man a chance to respond. If he wanted to fire him, he'd have to do it over the phone because Spencer was out of here. 

* * *

><p>When he'd entered his apartment, Spencer hadn't gotten his comforter, he hadn't ordered food and he hadn't touched his firefly boxset. Instead he'd walked through the door, given in to the crushing pain hiding in his heart and collapsed onto a stool. He was sat with his head in his hands, elbows propped on the breakfast counter when there was a knock at the door. He chuckled darkly as he thought it must be his tormentor coming to his house to finish the job. Knowing there was no use in fighting it and figuring that here was a better setting than at the office surrounded by his colleagues, he yelled at the person to come in.<p>

"Reid. Are you okay?" Asked the deep, concerned voice of his boss.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he refused to lift his head, he didn't want Hotch to see the tears, "I'm fine."

"Morgan said something about you being upset at receiving a valentines gift?" There was an undertone of tension in Hotch's tone but it was faint enough that Spencer figured he was imagining it, "Most people like that kind of thing." He could tell Hotch was trying to cheer him up by making a joke but it didn't work.

Sighing, Spencer gave up. If Hotch really wanted to know about his humiliation, he'd tell him, "I was nine. The first time I got a valentines card wedged in my locker. I was so excited, I thought that after being shunned as a freak my whole life that, finally, someone actually liked me." He felt Hotch walk up behind him and took strength from the presence, "It said 'Come to the Gym at 3pm.' They ... I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have hoped. They where all there, they all ... threw food at me." He hated himself for the chocked sob that racked its way through his body, and knew that when Hotch placed a hand on his back and rubbed, he was just pitying him.

"They found it so funny, they left me something every year. Sometimes it'd just be a gift, something disgusting or whatever, but sometimes they'd try to trick me again. I never fell for it, I never went anywhere again. But the worst part was ... the sparkle of hope I'd feel each time. That idea that maybe, just maybe, this time it was real. I was so pathetic. And I did it again today. I'll never learn."

Hotch was quite for a few seconds but, when he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. Spencer. God you didn't deserve a fraction of what has happened to you. I'm so sorry." Hotch was almost whispering, "But I promise you, I guarantee that this time, it's different. Trust me Spencer, please."

And then the hand was gone. Spencer was frozen in place. Hotch hadn't sounded pitying, he'd sounded upset by what he'd been told.

_'He called me Spencer'_

Turning to face the man, Spencer asked, "Hotch? How can you ... " He was gone. Spencer was alone in his apartment. Frowning and wondering why Hotch would just leave like that, he turned again to face the counter and his breath caught in his throat. A card, the same writing, sitting on the counter next to him.

Hotch?

Why would Hotch do this to him?

_'But I promise you, I guarantee that this time, it's different.' That's what he'd said._

Hotch wouldn't do this to him, he wouldn't.

He had to be planning something though. Why would Hotch leave those things for him. Why would he say those things.

_'You make me smile every day, despite the darkness, by being only yourself. I wish only in this world to be able to brighten your life a fraction of the way you do mine.'_

Those words couldn't have come from Hotch. He couldn't have meant them. He had to be planning something.

Frantic for an answer, Spencer tore into the envelope, took out the card and read it.

_'My only hope in this world is for you to be happy. I would treasure each and every day I had the opportunity to be the one trying to make it so. If you feel you can allow me that privilege, I hope you will come to my house tonight, 8pm, and give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Love Aaron.'_

Spencer felt as though he couldn't breath. The only thing stronger than the confusion and fear, was the hope. That damn hope. He felt tears fall as he wondered how foolish he had to be to still want this after so long, to still believe that anyone could love him when it had been made abundantly clear that it would never happen.

But this was Hotch. Hotch!

The feelings he had for Hotch would only make his betrayal even more crushing. He couldn't go, he'd gone once before and he'd vowed never to go again.

But it was HOTCH.

I can't.

_'Trust me Spencer, please.'_

Hotch's words replayed in his mind. He hadn't sounded eager, he hadn't sounded amused. He'd sounded like a man who had just found out someone he cared about had suffered.

_'Trust me Spencer, please.'_

This was Hotch, he had to trust him. 

* * *

><p>Reid raised a trembling fist, paused to breath, then knocked. He'd already rationalized that he needed to come, even if Hotch was planning something cruel. He needed to know as soon as possible whether or not he needed to look for a new job.<p>

The thing was, as pessimistic as his past had made him, he simply could not reconcile the idea of Hotch being cruel. He was one of the most, if not the most, honorable and kind men he'd ever met. It was a large part of what made Spencer love him so much. So he didn't believe Hotch wanted to hurt him, that meant he'd taken pity on the socially awkward genius and decided to share a friendly dinner with him. Pity was better than humiliation but it was still disappointing.

_'Either way,'_ he thought as he heard someone approach the door, _'This night is likely to suck.'_

When Hotch opened the door, Spencer was both stunned and under-dressed. The man before him was wearing a sleek black suit, a pastel purple shirt and deep purple tie. It was a much, much more elegant outfit than he wore at the office and Spencer was speechless. He looked incredible.

Hotch sighed deeply and smiled, "You came. I didn't think you would."

Spencer could only nod. Hotch quickly ushered him in out of the cold and took his jacket and bag. Spencer looked down at his paisley shirt, cream sweatervest and brown khaki's finished off with converse and cursed himself. Why did he always have to dress so dorkily.

Hotch must have seen him looking at himself like that because said, "You look good."

Spencer scoffed and looked at him, "You look good. I look like .. " He didn't want to say a geek.

"You look. Like Spencer Reid." Hotch said with a warm smile. Spencer smiled back uncertainly. He was feeling a little off kilter, he wasn't really sure what was happening and it was making him nervous.

"He's the only person I know how to be." Spencer said nervously, feeling a little better when his joke drew a laugh. Hotch seemed to be nervous for a second before extended an arm, inviting him into the living room.

The sight that greeted him was almost beyond words. Dozens of candles illuminated the room, spread on various surfaces. There was soft music Spencer couldn't identify and there were dark, red roses spread along a table containing two covered plates, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Spencer felt like crying when he realized that his boss really was cruel. To do all this, to make Spencer feel like this, it wasn't fair.

Hotch moved to stand in front of him and frowned.

"You don't like it." He asked, sounding disappointed. Spencer couldn't take this.

With a lump in his throat he asked, "Why are you doing this to me?" His voice barely a whisper.

Taking a step closer, Hotch took one of his hands into his own, "Because. I love you."

Spencer winced, "Don't say that. Don't joke about that."

"Spencer. I'm not." Hotch sounded upset by the accusation, "I'm not one of those dicks from your school. You know me Spencer. Please, trust me."

He opened his eyes again, and let himself see what was really in front of him, without the veil of his past clouding his vision. Aaron Hotchner. Brave, noble, honest, dependable, trustworthy Aaron Hotchner was telling him he loved him, was begging Spencer to trust him. He wanted to believe, he really did, but he was so scared.

Seeing his hesitance, Hotch repeated, "I love you, Spencer."

"You don't have to say that." Because if this wasn't a trick, it was pity. It had to be.

"I know. But I am saying it. I always will. Because you deserve to know how special you are." Hotch said, taking his over hand and grasping them together between them, "You deserve so much more than I could ever hope to give you, you deserve the whole universe. But I promise, I'll dedicate as much of my life as I can trying. I just need you to trust me."

Spencer was crying now, he was starting to believe, he did believe he could have this. Because maybe, just maybe, this time really was different.

"I don't know how." He said, because how could he let his guard down now after all this time. He didn't know how to let Hotch in no matter how much he wanted to.

"Just believe me when I say I want to make you happy." He answered, resting his forehead against Spencer's, before whispering, "Let me give you the universe."

Spencer drew in a shaky breath as he slowly raised his arms to circle Hotch's waist. He felt Hotch sigh.

"Hotch." He said, not knowing what else to say.

"Aaron." The other man replied, affection lacing his tone.

Spencer let himself smile a little, "Aaron," It felt good to call him that. Aaron raised his eyes to meet Spencer's and they were full of love. It almost blew Spencer away, "Aaron. Please don't hurt me." He pleaded.

Aaron closed his eyes and shook his head, breathing, "Never. I love you."

They looked into each others eyes for a moment before Aaron, ever so slowly, moved forward and pressed his lips against Spencer's. It was chaste and warm, and everything Spencer could have ever hoped for and so, so much more. When Aaron pulled away, he was just as breathless as Spencer was.

"Wow." They said together, causing them to smile. He didn't know why, but Spencer needed to feel Aaron close and so he stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, one Aaron returned eagerly.

As they stood, holding each other, mindless of rapidly cooling food on the table, Spencer closed his eyes and took in what was happening right now. Aaron was holding him, telling Spencer he was in love with him, that he wanted to make him happy.

For the first time in years, Spencer decided that maybe hoping wasn't the worst thing in the world. Taking the leap, the chance on trusting Aaron, he let himself feel it all.

"I love you too Aaron."

End.


End file.
